Happy In My Heartache
by VegasGirl09
Summary: AU in which Finn was attacked by Gig Harbor Killer but never fell into the coma.


February 15th, 2015

The cup of tea had steam rising from it as she set it down on her Pikes Place coaster on her coffee table. She had closed her laptop and opted instead to read case notes while lying back on the couch and drinking tea to relax and maybe make some sense of what had happened in the last few months. The mysterious aunt Shaw had mentioned in the hospital had been contacted and informed about Shaw's situation and Amy's needs. After Julie hung up with her, she set her phone down and reached for the hot tea to take a sip now that it had cooled slightly. She was suddenly pulled back forcefully by a strong hand gripping her hair and tugging hard. She yelped in protest, but the hand did not retreat. She reached behind her, trying to pry the hand off her, twisting her body until she was facing them. The hand loosened its grip but before she could process what was happening, something hard made contact with her face. She stumbled, but didn't fall, swaying unsteadily, gripping the couch for support.

"You ruined everything," a familiar and terrifying voice snapped at her as she squinted, struggling to see, until his face finally came into focus.

"You," she snarled, taking a dive at him which was foolish because he grabbed her hair again, forcing her to pull back on her attack.

"I told you, I warned you," Winthrop hissed at her, his hot breath on her face as he kept her still by yanking on her hair.

She wanted so badly to hit him, hard and as many times as she could, but before she could muster an escape plan, he threw her onto the ground. She spun around fast and made a move to stand up and fight, but he loomed over her again, swinging the fish hook menacingly, his fist raised and hitting her before she could react. After the third hit, she felt dizzy and sick to her stomach, but she could not let him win. Her swing was weak and unsteady, but her nails made contact with his face and she scratched as hard as she could, wanting to inflict pain but also get the DNA she needed, no wine glass required this time.

The scratch angered him and when he pushed her this time, he fell with her, pining her to the floor of her hallway. The pain that shot through her head this time was unbearable and she couldn't help but cry. He was relentless, his hands raised and raining down on her with heavy blows by the second. She could hear herself screaming at him, grabbing wildly at any part of him she could reach to no avail. His strength outdid hers. With no way to escape, she continued to make more noise, screaming louder, hoping someone would hear her and intervene. The attack seemed like an eternity. Her body went numb, her focus beginning to fade, and Winthrop's face was blurry and distorted.

Then, surprisingly, he stopped. She felt no more rage, but she could not gather the strength to stand or move an inch. She tasted blood, felt several bumps on her face and her head, her entire body on fire, muscles screaming in protest of the pain. To her horror, she started to move, but not of her own free will. He was dragging her, at the same time she heard glass breaking, things falling around her, but she could not see them. The horrible shattering of glass was an assault on her remaining senses. She had no idea where he was taking her, but she had no strength left to fight back or call out for help. If she did, he would likely hit her again. The sensation of being pulled backwards ceased and she was suddenly lifted off the ground. She managed to cry out in agony at being so forcefully moved only to be pushed back down. Her knees hit something hard and red lights suddenly burst into her line of vision. The lights disappeared within seconds as she was thrown into complete darkness, a loud thump the final sound she heard followed by a car horn.

It occurred to her in her distorted subconscious that this was the trunk of a car. He was leaving her in here to die. Panicked but in a terrible amount of pain, she began feeling around with her hands for anything to help her escape or somehow alert someone to her presence here. Miraculously he had not tied her hands, maybe he thought she was unconscious or maybe now he was finally getting sloppy. Whatever the instance, she had to get out. Breathing hard, worrying about losing oxygen quickly, she continued to feel along the inside of the trunk space. There was a bungie cord, some sort of plastic box like container, jumper cables maybe, then, finally, the plastic square shaped tag, the trunk release! She yanked on it with all the strength she had left. The popping noise startled her but was a relief, she had done it.

Slowly, she sat up, bumping her already sore head on the trunk, using her arm to push it open all the way. It was dark but there were lights from the parking garage of her condo complex. Dizzy, she grabbed on to the back end of the car and forced herself to crawl out of it. Her legs immediately gave out from under her and she fell onto the hard concrete. Her heart was pounding faster, the adrenaline kicking in and allowing her to scoot along the ground, one slow agonizing crawl at a time. She reached a cement pillar and used it to sit up on her knees, then one foot, then two. Her stomach churned when she reached normal height again and she doubled over, wanting to fall back to her knees again or throw up or both but she could not let that happen. If Winthrop came back and saw she had escaped, he would kill her. She tried to call out for help, but she was winded, her voice muffled, as if she were suffering from laryngitis. That angered her and she sobbed. She knew the parking attendant's office was around the corner if she could just make it there, she could call for help.

Two blurry figures were now in her line of vision. They were further up in the distance but getting closer. She did not know how to get their attention but somehow, they could see her in peril and started to run now. It couldn't be Winthrop or a partner. Neighbors? Tourists? Employees of the complex? A flash of long blonde hair could be seen, and Julie could just make out the shape of a black vest. CSI's.

"Guys," she cried out hoarsely, reaching out with a shaky arm for help.

But they did not respond to her. All she heard was a gasp, followed by two voices yelling her name. The pair reached her at last and she could finally fall forward in defeat. Someone caught her in their arms, slowly lowering her back to the ground which was a welcomed relief.

"Finn," Greg's voice called to her "it's okay, we've got you."

"Winthrop," she cried to him "he's here, he got me, go get him"

"Russell got him" Greg assured her now, letting her lean on him.

He looked up at Morgan who was covering her mouth in shock, horrified by what she was seeing. Her best friend covered in blood and bruises, cuts and various other injuries. Her hair was matted with blood and tangled, and she looked close to death.

"Call Russell, call the paramedics, she's hurt pretty bad." Greg told Morgan who shakily used her walkie talkie to do so.

"Finn," Greg said now, gently nudging her to keep her awake, fearing a concussion if she passed out "you have to stay awake for me okay? Please."

"I can't," she cried, struggling to keep them in focus "it hurts."

Her admittance to that pain only increased the severity of the situation. She was tough, but not enough for this.

"We know it hurts," Greg soothed her "but you're safe now, helps coming, please stay with us."

He was shaking, as was Morgan. They had worked so many scenes and bloodbaths of murder and violence but seeing their friend this way, still alive, but hurt terribly, was the worst they had ever seen.

Julie felt her mind going numb, the parking garage was beginning to dissolve around her, but Greg kept nudging her, forcing her to bring it all back into focus and making her aware of every little ache and pain she had. Nausea was hitting her in waves, and she did not think she could contain it any longer.

"Sick," she murmured "I feel sick."

Before Greg or Morgan could answer her, the paramedics had arrived, Russell racing behind them.

"Where was she?" Russell demanded when he reached them "oh God." 

His shock and horror could not be stifled when he saw her face. How could anyone do this to someone like her? The rage he had towards Winthrop when through the roof at the sight of his friend, his colleague, his confidant, covered in her own blood, bruised, and in pain.

"She was stumbling around the garage," Greg explained "she was looking for help I think, she must have escaped the car Winthrop had her in."

It was a hunch and a long shot, but they knew to start searching here because Winthrop did not have enough time to dispose of Finn like he wanted before Russell interrupted him.

"My God," Russell uttered, sinking down to his knees in front of Finn "Jules,"

"Sir, we've got her," one of the medics stopped him from getting any closer while the other was assessing her vitals, feeling her pulse, brushing back her matted hair in search of any hidden injuries.

"She's gonna need a trauma doc," the medic concluded "Desert Palm is closest, Dr. King is on duty tonight."

Before anyone could say another word, the medics were delicately yet hurriedly lifting Julie from Greg.

"No," she protested weakly, fearing another attack until she realized it was just the paramedics lifting her into their ambulance. Russell made a move to climb in with her, but he was stopped.

"She's too critical sir," the medic said but he didn't need that statement to tell him so.

"I'll meet you there then," he said shakily, disturbed by the night's events "Jules, honey I'll be right there, I promise."

She heard him call out to her in the distance, but she could not see him anywhere near her and she began to panic again. Her heart was racing in her chest, setting off the alarms from the monitors attached to her finger.

"Ma'am please try to relax," the medic was telling her, but she was starting to get restless, the pain was radiating all throughout her body and her vision was still cloudy which scared her.

She felt the entire bumpy ride from the condo unit to the hospital. The ambulance shook and rattled, and each movement caused her pain. Within a few seconds after being wheeled into the emergency room however, she would gladly have traded the bright lights and swarms of nurses to be back in the privacy of the dark ambulance. Her head ached as sounds exploded in her ears, loud shouts from the nurses asking for this tool and that monitor and things she could not process in her mind because it was racing with fear and panic. A bright light was flashed in her eyes and she turned her head away from it whimpering, wanting it to go away.

"I know sweetie," a calm voice was saying to her, peering into her eyes, examining them but also taking in her pained expression. That voice went from calm to loud again as they demanded an x-ray and an MRI and some type blood which registered in her subconscious.

"No, type A," Julie managed to choke out, fearful they would get it wrong and make her sick "type A positive"

"That's right, they told me you were a blood expert," the calm voice was speaking to her again then yelling to the nurses for that blood type.

"Russell," Julie called for now "my- boss, friend, Seattle."

"He's here," someone reassured her but that was all they said.

"Tell him, Gig Harbor," Julie struggled to choke out the words, but her demands went unanswered.

The continuous assault on her senses as the nurses and doctors worked on her was annoying. She was in too much pain to care that they took her favorite sweater away which was now covered in blood and likely ruined. She cried out when she felt something pinch her arm, an IV. Someone else had taken to feeling her face, her jaw, under her eyes, her forehead. Irritated, she kept shaking her head in the opposite direction wishing they would stop. When she felt someone press on her side with barely any force and pain shot up her body, she cried the hardest and begged them to stop.

"Could be internal bleeding," the doctor was saying "I need those scans."

On and on it went for what felt like an eternity. Slowly, Julie felt her brain become less hazy and her vision less cloudy. She could see the people around her a bit clearer now. Most were nurses, there were three doctors in white coats. She was blocked from view by a curtain but could see a door beyond it, so she was in a room. That annoying light flashed in her eyes again and she whimpered again in protest.

"Almost done sweetie, we promise," the closest doctor was saying to her.

"Can you tell us where most of your pain is?" someone else was asking her, what a stupid question, Julie couldn't help but think.

"My head," she answered raising her arm weakly and placing her hand to it, gasping and withdrawing it quickly when she felt the large bump on her forehead and the sticky blood. At the same time, a nurse had reentered the curtained off area, pulling back the material, leaving some of it open. Julie glanced at the open space, noticing metal cabinets, a cart with wheels, a sink and finally, a mirror. The mirror was angled just right, and she saw her reflection but what stared back at her was terrifying.

Every part of her face was either bloody or bruised. She could see the bruises continuing down to her neck. Her hair had been swept back and her curls were matted severely. No amount of brushing or combing could ever fix that. Her eyes were not swollen shut but very close to it. She kept blinking but could not see her reflection doing so, she could only feel her eye lids completing the motion. This is why Morgan gasped. This is why Greg held her. This is why Russell sounded so distraught. She looked like a mangled piece of meat or some zombie like thing from a scary movie. Winthrop had succeeded in making her pay. Seeing herself like this only added to the terror she felt in her chest. And now half her friends and half the staff here had seen her too. She felt the overwhelming urge to run away, if her legs would carry her, or to crouch down and hide in the deepest darkest corner of the world.

Her reaction to seeing herself so badly beaten had caused her heart to race again and the monitors to start beeping furiously. The doctor came to her aide and said "Are you okay? What are you feeling?" fearing some undiagnosed injury they had missed.

Julie raised a shaky arm and pointed painfully to the mirror.

"My face," she cried, then noticed the arm she was using to point with was also covered in bruises and cuts which led to her looking at her other arm, lifting the covers and staring at her legs, pulling up the hospital gown and seeing the bruises continue up to her knees and beyond. She did not dare look any further, she knew what would be there. More bruises, more cuts on her back from being dragged, then tossed into the trunk. She started breathing heavily, panicked about her condition, wondering how long it would take for all this to heal. Worse still, everyone who looked at her would see her as a victim, no one would ever take her seriously when they saw her like this.

"It's okay" the doctor tried to assure her.

But Julie had never felt more self-conscious about how she looked and felt in this moment. She pulled the covers up to her chin trying to hide but sitting up in that position caused her more pain.

"Russell, need him," she demanded again, panic rising in her chest at all the things she needed to tell him.

But the doctor and nurses were still fussing over the machines; she was hooked up to a heart monitor which was continuing to beep as her heart raced in fear over her injuries. Julie could only shake her head from side to side, struggling to find a comfortable position, all the while, her head feeling like it was going to burst.

When the nurse lifted the railings on her bed up and started to push her bed through the double doors of the room she occupied, Julie lifted her head and asked, "What are you doing?"

"We've got a private room for you upstairs," the nurse explained.

"I don't want that," Julie protested "I want to go home."

"Oh, honey not for a few days until you heal," the nurse explained but that was not what Julie wanted to hear.

"No," she protested squirming uncomfortably in the bed "I want to go home, you can't make me stay, Russell!"

From the row of chairs outside the trauma rooms, Russell was pacing anxiously in front of them, when he heard Julie call for him. He marched forward, inches from bursting through the doors when Dr. King exited them first.

"She's stable," Dr. King informed him before he could even ask "we are moving her to her own room, needless to say she's not happy about having to stay here for a few days."

"Let me see her," Russell demanded now.

"Look, I really shouldn't even be telling you her condition," Dr. King said, "for a patient that critical, it's family only."

"I _am _her family," Russell snapped "she babysits my kids, I took her mushroom hunting, there's a picture of her in my wallet for God's sake, here!"

He ripped open his wallet and showed Dr. King the photo of Charlie, Maya and Julie at a family event years ago. She sympathized with him. In the moment of silence, Russell heard Julie cry for him again, his heart being stabbed with every cry of anguish she howled from behind those doors.

"She needs me," he made one final plea.

Dr. King sighed and pushed back the double doors to let him in.

Russell only had to take two steps beyond the trauma rooms before he spotted the nurse gently pushing the hospital bed into a room beyond a second set of doors. He followed, reaching the room as the nurse readjusted the bed so that it faced the door. Julie was frantically squirming, twisting around, trying to escape but too weak to get out of the bed. She glanced up when she heard noise at the door and when her eyes landed on him, everything else around her disintegrated.

"Russell," she cried one final, relieved cry, nearly falling out of the bed in her attempt to get to him.

The nurse stepped aside to give them privacy as Russell rounded the distance of the bed, closing the gap between them, Julie stretching her arms out as far as she physically could, feeling them burn and ache but none of that pain mattered when they collided at last. She latched on to him with a weak hold but a desperate one.

"Gig Harbor," she sobbed "he was here, he got me, you have to stop him, my condo, evidence."

She was babbling incoherent phrases at him, but he knew what she was trying to tell him.

"It's okay," he soothed "we got him, you got him, we stopped him, it's over."

Now it was his turn to ramble on, still in shock himself over what had occurred, further shock occurring when he gently pried her arms off him and got a better look at her face. Dried blood caked her normally bright complexion, bruises encompassed the landscape of her normally flawless face, hiding all her distinctive freckles, tears running in every direction, emotions dancing in her eyes; fear, anger, pain, each of them a separate blow to his heart. Winthrop had hurt more than one person tonight.

"They won't let me leave," she sobbed now "please take me home, I can't stay here, I hate hospitals."

"I know you do," Russell soothed her, gently settling her back on the pillows but she refused to let him go. She kept lurching forward in discomfort, wanting to stay sitting up. He used both hands now to gently cradle her face, a gesture he had done on previous occasions when she was over tired and over emotional but when he touched her cheeks, even as gentle as he was, she still winced in pain and trembled.

"You have to stay," he informed her, crushing what remained of her soul, causing her to sob the most heartbreaking one yet.

"You need to heal Jules," he continued, knowing if he showed any signs of emotions, she would break further in his arms "I'll be right here, I won't leave you, I promise, can you promise me you'll listen and do what the doctors say? Promise me Jules."

At first, she shook her head, disobeying him was her specialty but that simple movement caused pain to shoot through her skull and a terrible wave of stomach-churning nausea hit her again. Defeated, she moved her head trying to escape his hold. Realizing he was probably causing her more pain, he let her face go. She continued to sob uncontrollably as she turned on to her side awkwardly, burying her sore face into the pillows, crying harder at her situation and the new twinges of pain hitting her every few seconds.

"It'll be okay," he tried to soothe her, hating how generic and robotic he sounded, but she was inconsolable right now. He was unaccustomed to seeing her broken emotionally. It terrified him. But he remained, lowering himself into the chair by her bed, reaching out and holding her hand which felt cold in his. When squeezing her hand did not seem to help calm her, he rubbed her arm, starting at her wrist and moving up and down, a continuous soothing motion he hoped would calm her after all the violence she had experienced tonight.

As her cries continued, muffled as she hid her face in the pillows, he stayed with her, desperately wishing he could magically make all her pain disappear. Anger surged inside him at the thought of Winthrop hitting her, guilt plagued him for not arriving sooner to intervene. He imagined the pain he could have inflicted on the monster had he been given the opportunity. He gladly would have killed him this time, no hesitation. Stalking Maya in 2009 was one thing. Hurting Julie this way made pure, hot rage course through him, rage he had not felt in years.

Slowly, her cries began to grow quieter, her sobs lessening, her body no longer shaking with each one. Exhaustion must be taking over, he secretly hoped, or the pain medicine the doctor had administered through her IV. Sleep for her would be a welcomed relief but he knew better, she was stubborn and would likely fight it. The only thing that seemed to be calming them both was the silence they sat it, the secure space she had to cry and let out the pain and anguish she felt. As he continued to rub her arm, he noticed the bruises and cuts there, being careful not to irritate them. But she did not fuss or flinch at his touch. Maybe she was too wound up to notice. Whatever the instance, he kept going, whispering to her when he felt safe to do so.

"Rest," he encouraged, speaking for the first time in several minutes "you're safe, I'm here."

In her subconscious, hovering close to sleep now, Julie heard him speak. She could feel a light pressure on her arm, the one not being stabbed by the IV. It was a nice feeling, the only good feeling she had while every other part of her body ached. The pounding in her skull was intense but the pain medication was starting to make her numb. Her eyes burned when she closed them, but it was a relief to shut them and not see the rest of the world right now. She had been punished for her work, not the first time, but certainly the worst. The last thing she heard before she fell into darkness, was Russell whispering to her "It's okay Jules" and somehow, that was enough.

February 16th, 2015

The heart monitor beeped slow and steady, hovering at a resting beats per minute of seventy-five. It was the quietest it had been in hours. The sun was out as morning had broke a few hours ago but Russell had closed all the blinds to the small windows so the harsh light would not wake Julie. She had cried herself to sleep due to pain and the trauma of the night, with him watching over her, horrified by what she had endured yet unable to take away any of her pain. The bruises on her face and body had turned varying shades of purple and her hair was still a tangled, matted mess. Nevertheless, she was alive, spared by some act of mercy. Russell was replaying the night in his head, thinking back to the clue that alerted him to the connection between the twins and the orphanage in Seattle. He was on his way to her condo to tell her, to sit with her and work on more leads, but she didn't answer her phone, her door was ajar and then the horror that met his eyes when he entered, the broken glass, the hook, the monster hiding, waiting for him, telling him she was already dead, the way he sneered at him, seeing the heartbreak on his face at the news. But he was wrong, she survived, and fought her way out literally to get the help she needed. Now she was here, right in front of him, alive but fighting and she had a long fight ahead. The damage that had been done to her, physically and emotionally, would likely change her perspective of the world and her trust was now shattered forever.

At some point, he worked up the nerve to call the team and tell them how she was doing and how they could help by processing the condo and then cleaning it up so she would not have to come home to a mess. He of course would remain at her bedside, updating them when he could. There was one last phone call he made a few minutes ago, despite knowing and expecting her arrival, her tiny whimper at the door startled him. Russell turned and stood up to greet Barbara with a hug.

"She's okay," he assured her, but she had pushed past him and stood near the edge of the bed, covering her mouth in shock.

"Look at her face D.B," Barbara wept.

"I know it looks bad," he admitted "but she's going to get better, it's just going to take time and she's strong, you and I both know that."

"Please tell me you caught this monster," Barbara snarled now of Winthrop.

"He's in custody, yes," he confirmed.

"Did he care to say why he tried to kill her?" she asked now.

"Still working on that, detective," Russell said using her nickname for when she showed interest in his work.

"Oh God," Barbara sobbed, overwhelmed, sinking down into the chair Russell had occupied "Jules."

Her cries pierced Julies subconscious and she felt her brain restart. The first thing it alerted her to was excruciating pain. Knives stabbed at every inch of her body, her head felt like it was going to be split in half right down the middle of her skull. Her chest burned and her sides ached. The only response she could offer was a whimper. Barbara gasped when she saw Julie starting to move slowly then cry out as she became aware of her pain.

"Oh honey," she soothed, lurching forward on the bed and snatching up Julie's hand in hers "I'm so sorry sweetie, I didn't mean to wake you."

Julie squinted, her eyes adjusting to the space around her, Barbara's worried face swimming into focus at last.

"Hi there," Barbara called to her softly as if she was just visiting their house for dinner.

"Hi," Julie mumbled back, happy to see her despite the pain she was in.

"How do you feel?" she asked trying to keep her talking.

"Hurts," was all Julie could mumble at her, laying helplessly on her side.

"Oh, sweetie we know," Barbara soothed her, reaching out with a shaky hand to stroke her hair, flinching slightly when she felt the tangles and matted dried blood.

"Why didn't anyone help her with this?" Barbara asked, exasperated of the poor job by the hospital staff.

"Her injuries needed more attention," Russell said as Barbara began fishing around in her purse for something, pulling out a small make up pouch which held a brush and a comb.

"Jules, honey, will you let me fix your hair?" Barbara asked delicately in case Julie wasn't quite aware of what was happening. But she nodded, subtly, each movement causing her pain.

Silently, Barbara got to work, using a little water from the sink in the bathroom to rinse out the dried blood then tend to each tangle one at a time, being careful not to pull too hard and cause more pain. As Barbara worked, Julie felt two emotions; the first, nervousness at the feel of someone grabbing at her hair, fearful of the forceful way in which Winthrop had grabbed her hair last night. The first feeling began to fade and was replaced by gratitude and a surge of affection as well as a trickle of memory from when Barbara helped her tend to her unmanageable hair years ago when she stated with them after Mike served her a divorce after the Cooley case. That memory seemed so long ago but, was rather recent. It was a heartache she thought she would never recover from, but she did, and now this pain was surpassing that.

Russell watched Barbara work with Julie, untangling her hair one strand at a time, rinsing the blood, then beginning again. It was sweet yet heartbreaking at the same time. But, once the dark red stains began to disappear, Julie's usual blonde was beginning to show again, a small sense of normalcy and familiarity after the attack.

Barbara finished, smoothing Julie's hair back one final time in search of any missed blood, then again, for affection. Julie offered her a small smile of gratitude and mumbled "Thanks,"

"Anything for you," Barbara reminded her sinking back into the chair by the bed, continuing to smooth her hair back, being careful not to graze any wounds. Julie sighed, feeling relaxed by the comfort, or maybe it was the drugs still in effect. Whatever the reason, it distracted her and made her numb again.

Sleep had never come so natural to Julie. She didn't know how long it took before she dozed again, Barbara's continuous smoothing of her hair aiding in helping her sleep. When she woke up again, the sun was still out, she was still curled up in bed, lying on her side, the only position that felt safe and somewhat pain free to her. Barbara was gone but Russell was still beside the bed. She watched him lean forward when he noticed she was awake again.

"Doing all right?" he asked, knowing the general answer.

"I feel like I've been hit by a truck," Julie replied, feeling less groggy and more capable of answering him truthfully "several trucks, in a row."

She offered him a tiny smirk, her signature smirk hidden behind cuts and bruises but still able to pierce his soul.

"There you are," he teased, feeling safe enough to do so now.

She continued to smirk as she asked, "Where's Barbara?"

"Cafeteria," he explained "she wants us both to eat but I'm not hungry."

"Me either," Julie said, scrunching up her face at the thought of food, her stomach still uncomfortable.

"Maybe later then," he said.

The silence that fell between them was awkward. She no longer felt the urge to cry but was now curious about last night and the case.

"Who processed my condo?" she asked "what did they find? Do we know anything about Winthrop's biological mother?"

"Jules, don't do this," Russell pleaded with her "Dr. King will kill me if I get you all riled up with case talk."

"I hate you sometimes," she bit back, sharp as ever, knowing he would eventually give in and tell her everything she wanted to know.

"Nah, you only think you hate me," he echoed his words from when he first tried to recruit her for this job three years ago.

She smiled, bigger this time, shifting on the bed, extending her arm out to him, waving her fingers impatiently, wanting to hold his hand. He smiled back, extending his arm and gently taking her hand in hers again. This simple gesture meant the world to her and spoke volumes on their life together. Even though her head still felt like it was going to explode, her body felt like it was on fire and she would hate looking at her face in the mirror for a while, she knew she could get through it, with his help, and the help of her friends.

"Thanks for being here," she said.

"Where else would I be?" he reminded her of their bond.

She knew better, of course, but still had to thank him for his concern. As she felt tired again and ready to sleep, she held on to his hand and said, "Promise you'll stay?" piercing him with the saddest look that could make him bend to her will no matter if she was here in the hospital or back to normal at work.

"Of course," he promised "but Jules?"

He scooted forward so only she could hear now as his whispered "Don't ever scare me like that again."

That affectionate threat summed up their bond perfectly. After all the hell she had been through, he still managed to make her feel like she had caused him pain.

"Can't make any promises," she replied with her usual snark.

He smirked at her reply, relieved that she was still quick with her wit. She would be back at the lab causing him grief and giving him hell in no time. Little did she know, that was his favorite place to be with her.


End file.
